Psuedo love
by Envo
Summary: Non-massacre. Mistakes, some people learn it with their minds. She learns it with her heart.


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.

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><p>Psuedo-love<p>

Envo

1.

Her heart sinks at the sight before her. How could she forget?

The air of festive fills the atmosphere as the wide streets of Konoha transformed into seas of cramped, rowdy crowds. Colors shine in every corner she looks, and even under the night sky, lanterns lining the streets managed to illuminate the village as if it is only noon.

She looks down at her baggage helplessly: a boxful of precious sake occupying her hands and two bags of heavy scrolls hanging by her elbows due on the Hokage's desk in half an hour's time. Her shoulders sag. There is simply no way she can maneuver her way pass the endless stream of people without knocking over something, be it her baggage or a passerby. She straightens the trickle of chakra on her palm and looks up at the roof longingly. Perhaps she can find a foothold up?

As she contemplates her options, the door behind her slides open. The strong scent of alcohol makes her nose wrinkle as she scoots aside to clear the way out, her eyes never stop searching for dark alcoves along the building walls.

"You look troubled."

The low tenor is nearly lost in the combine noise of songs, cheers, and simple chatters. She makes a mental note: never stand in front of a bar with drunken people and their simpleminded… come-ons. She looks over her shoulder, and all humor dissipates. She lets two heartbeats go by before affirming what she is seeing is no illusion.

"Uchiha-san… I didn't see you there." Uchiha Itachi. Coming out of the bar. Talking. The world has surely gone mad.

The man in question seems more interested in her rather weighty burden than her surprise. Those dark eyes remain on the flamboyantly red and pink logo of the very liquor seller behind their backs, a look of understanding flashes. He quickly gazes at the street and than back to her.

She pushes down the urge to squirm and forces a smile. "I'm on an errand."

He nods curtly and extends a hand towards her.

She looks down at the hand much larger than her own with a thousand thoughts zipping through her mind. _He can't possibly want me to hold his hand, does he? _She looks down at her hand that is currently very much _full_. No, that is illogical and not his style. Then why—

She frantically shakes her head. "Don't mind me, I'm fine on my own." She expects the hand to drop, a nod of farewell and a flash of relief from those eyes that somehow weighs even more than the box and the bags combine. It is her job, her duty. Besides, shishou never does anything without cause. Her straightening control over her chakra release says it all.

But the hand is still in front of her and the pair of obsidian eyes still remains heavily on her person.

She stifles a sigh between her teeth. "Really, I can make it—" In the corner of her eyes, she sees the slow-moving, yukata-clad people swamping the street with a number not declining, but increasing rapidly if that is even possible, as the clock ticks by. Her eyes widens at the discovery, "—by my self."

That sounds unconvincing, even to her ears.

Her shoulders drop even more when amusement lights up his eyes as his hand shifts forward slightly. And to make matters worse, her previous search along the walls of the many buildings around yields nothing but fragile awnings that can't hold a person's weight, let alone her and her carry-on.

She bits her lips and reluctantly holds out the box of liquor, hiding the sense of defeat as much as she can from her voice. "Thank you."

He easily plucks the box out of her hand and waits as she shifts the two bags into her hands. And when she noticing him eyeing the bags, she quickly takes a step back. "I can handle these two."

She watches with newfound amazement as a smirk blooms on the normally cold and inexpressive face. _He should smile more_.

Where did that thought come from?

"Come."

She watches him with slightly glazed eyes as the man swiftly cuts through the crowd with ease, leaving a clean path for her to follow. She shakes herself, both inside and out, and runs to catch up.

It must have been the plume of alcohol.

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><p>AN: It's been awhile since I've last posted, but I haven't stopped writing, even though at the much slower pace than before. The result is caused by too many things, but I won't bore you with those. We've all heard of them as is.

Here is the first part of what was once a long one-shot. Hope you enjoyed it.

Cheers to 2012.

Envo


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